Lost Moments
by TheStarShines
Summary: All those moments between River and her parents (and the Doctor) that just didn't make it into the show. T for dark themes, violence, and hurt/comfort. (This is not just a random series of one shots)
1. Chapter 1

**SKIP THE RAMBLING IF YOU WANT**

**So . . . As everyone knows I'm not in the habit of finishing anything at all – it's depressing. I just stop caring about the plots at some point. So, if you're looking for an overarching plot or a full story, don't put anything into this story (if you can call it that).**

**Anyways, I was rewatching AGMGTW and LKH with my parents and felt the urge to read/write Pond family fics. Since I have no clue where I'm going it'll probably be a collection of one-shots with some multiparters. **

**Under Hurt and Comfort because it's River and her whole life is hurt/notmuchcomfort but it needs a bit more comfort. **

**STOP SKIPPING**

**Below is an extremely stereotypical examination of how they felt after ATM, if you have read too many to be interested please skip to Chapter Two and give this story a chance!**

Chapter One: The Aftermath

_~After Angels Take Manhattan~_

Rory was staring at the ground, trying not to scream in frustration. An angel had zapped him back in time _again_! At first it hadn't caused him that much concern, the Doctor had been able to find him the first time so he was sure his family would come looking for him as soon as they could but as time went on he started to think about the gravestone._ Rory Arthur Williams_ – his name, etched in stone. Rory didn't know that much about the rules of time travel but the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that knowing the future made it permanent. He pushed the doubt to the side of his mind – surely Amy wouldn't let the Doctor give up, she'd try her hardest to find him. And River – Melody, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time – she would find him. She always had. Rory ignored the little part of him that was saying _no she won't, she knows you and Amy don't care for her as a daughter anymore_. He sighed, it was true. He'd been far too rough on her – particularly today. He hadn't acted remotely happy to see her when she'd raised her head in 1930's Central Park. A sob broke through Rory's thoughts and he spun around to face where his gravestone had been.

Amy was standing, half bent over, her makeup smeared and her red hair whirled in a tangle around her face. She turned quickly, a desperate look in her red eyes;

"_Rory!_"

She rushed into his arms, nearly knocking him over. Rory held on to her tightly, burying his face in her hair; his tears soaking her shoulder. Her demeanor had convinced him – they weren't ever leaving. His heart contracted at the thought of what that meant. They'd never see his father or her parents again. Brian would be watering the plants for who knew how long before the Doctor went and told him what happened – if ever. They hadn't – he hadn't – said goodbye to anyone. _He hadn't said goodbye to anyone._ Rory gripped Amy tighter at the idea. He'd never said goodbye to his daughter or the Doctor – his son-in-law. And he'd never see them again. He'd never be there to patch up another cut or sew a wound as he had so many times when the two of them had stumbled through the doors of his home – or the TARDIS – at the wee hours of the morning.

Amy pulled away and hit him lightly on the shoulder, "Oh, Rory."

Rory looked at her and smiled slightly through his tears, "They're –"

Amy shook her head, "They can't, Rory. The Doctor said it would rip New York apart . . ." Her eyes gained a far off look, she could remember the heartbreak in his voice as he asked – _begged _– her to come back into the TARDIS. And River had been so strong – even encouraging her. Why had she . . .? Because she knew, Amy realized, she knew – or she believed that her mother and father needed to be together. And Amy knew she'd always treasure their last moment of contact.

She looked into her husband's old eyes and saw the regret there, the sadness. He would never get a last moment with anyone – whether it be with the Doctor or their daughter. He had hardly been with them tonight, he'd lost so many moments with them and she could see he knew that. Amy shoved her pity deep inside and flashed him a smile.

"So! 1939 New York, well our lives are never going to be dull!" Amy grabbed his hand and the two of them raced out of the graveyard, away from the ghosts of the future that were crying there.

. . . . . . .

River took the Doctor's hand and pulled him back into the TARDIS before slamming the door shut. The angel outside made a terrible scratching sound as it raked it's nails down the door but River rushed to the console, flying the TARDIS away from the graveyard. The Doctor stumbled to the steps, as if every movement caused him unbearable agony. He looked like an old man again; his eyes lined with loss. River bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying herself – crying had never helped anyone, not her, not her mother, not her father. She mentally activated a part of her mind she normally kept silent in the hope it would go away. She hated what Kovarian had psychologically done to her but she used it now, to keep herself strong for the Doctor. He didn't need a wife who was weepy and the daughter of his two best friends – his family. He needed the wife who was rock, who wouldn't be crushed by any burden.

"River, they were you parents. I'm sorry, I didn't even think" He was looking at her, his voice raw with sadness but the apology wasn't sincere. He couldn't see past his own pain and she didn't blame him. His connection with her parents was probably stronger than hers anyways.

"It doesn't matter." Her voice was detached – too detached, she thought – and she typed a location into the TARDIS.

"Of course it matters." He saw her sadness this time and it hurt him as deep as his own. River turned to him and saw that he had seen.

She did her best to deflect it, to go on like it didn't matter, "What matters is this. Don't travel alone, Doctor."

"Travel with me, then."

River looked to him and smiled but he knew the answer. The Doctor had known the answer from the moment he'd asked her to travel with him. It would never work – and they both knew it. Their timeline were scrambled beyond repair and her staying – as a true companion could destroy their future.

River knew her answer; she'd thought it up when she had dreamed as a college student about being asked to travel with the man she loved, "Wherever and whenever you want." But not now, it was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that she couldn't be there. She was a living reminder of the Ponds – in his mind at least, River thought bitterly. "But not all the time, one psychopath per TARDIS, don't you think?"

Both of them inwardly winced at the word 'psychopath' and River pulled down the final lever. She took a shaky breath and looked up to the ceiling of the TARDIS, bracing herself to leave – to truly give up on seeing her parents ever again. "This book I have to write, _Melody Malone._ I presume I send it to Amy to get it published." At least there was that – maybe they could write? River mentally hit herself, of course not – they probably wouldn't even want to. They'd made it explicitly clear that Demon's Run is where everything in their lives started to go wrong.

"Yes . . . yes." The Doctor held his hands up. What sort of husband was he? River was burying her emotions from him and there was nothing he was willing to do to help her out. Not that she'd let him help her . . . Her childhood had been stolen but her ability to trust had been as well.

She past him, "I'll tell her to write an afterward . . . for you."

River darted into the first room she saw and slumped against a wall, they were truly gone. And now she had to write it all down – she had to cause it to happen all over again. The TARDIS creaked as the Doctor raced out the doors – probably in search of that last page. The last page to that cursed book. But this gave her time, time to change and leave as quickly as possible.

River rushed into a shower, throwing the dress on the ground. She'd like it well enough but now she hated it, sorrow clung to it like a leech – how fitting it was black. She flipped the nozzles, burning water rushed down her body – too hot for comfort. River scrubbed every inch of her body until it was bright red. Tears meshed with the water – this was her fault. She'd let – _encouraged_ – her mother to leave, to break her own heart – and the Doctor's hearts. Pushing the thought away she stepped out of the shower, drying her hair hurriedly. Wrapping a towel around herself she stepped out into what once had been the hallway.

There were two doors, one lead to the Doctor's room (or hers, since he only seemed to sleep with her around) and the other was her parent's. She didn't think but raced into the Doctor's, unable to enter Amy and Rory's room.

She looked through the wardrobe, bypassing all the fancy dresses the Doctor had picked out for her. She settled for a pair of her own jeans and a tank. Looking through the closet she saw an extra tweed jacket and smiled at it for a moment before pulling it on over the top.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror she nearly laughed. She looked like a mental patient with her half-dried hair spilling messily around her head and the tweed jacket simply added to the effect. But she didn't take it off, she needed the comfort and she knew the Doctor wouldn't mind. In fact, it might make his day to see her like this, he did love the tweed.

Flashes of the day went through her mind and she bit her lip before running out of the room, past the console, and out the door.

The first thing she saw was Amy and Rory's house. The first thing she heard was the TARDIS dematerializing behind her.

**Well that was melancholy – the real fic starts on the next chapter (which is why I'm posting it with this one.) **

**Reviews are much appreciated!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**The italics at the beginning indicate which version of River, Amy and Rory will be from after the God Complex and before the Wedding of River Song unless otherwise specified (which it will be, but I'm going more linearly for them). And all River versions could have tacked on adventures which result in excitement, injuries, etc. **

**Enjoy!**

Chapter Two: The Door

Amy and Rory's house. How River hated the TARDIS at that moment, all she wanted to do was run far away but something egged her towards the house with the blue door – that blue door.

_~After The Impossible Astronaut/Day of the Moon~ _

Amy and Rory walked through the blue door, which would hold joy and sadness – similar to the TARDIS whose color it was modeled after. They'd just had a 'fight' at the grocery store. Amy never wanted to get any form of food that could go bad and Rory just wanted what he called 'actual food' for once. They'd settled on a weird mix of ice cream, frozen pizza, and apples which Rory was still grumbling about.

Amy rolled her eyes as she carried the bags into the kitchen . . . where River was sitting, drinking tea and eating a sandwich she must have bought down the street with her left hand. Amy stopped in her tracks and Rory banged into her. He was about to complain when he looked over her shoulder and saw their daughter. She was focused on some papers she was reviewing, her curly hair half obscuring her face. It was the first time Amy and Rory had seen their daughter since she tried to kill the Doctor and then used all her regenerations to bring him back to life in Berlin.

"River? What're you doing here?" Rory was the first to recover, as always. He'd always taken shocking news remarkably well. When Amy had turned to flesh he was strong, when Melody dissolved he was still functioning, when Mels regenerated he was the first to react properly and go after her.

She looked up at them blankly, thoughts rushing through her head – they knew she was . . .? Of course they did, they wouldn't be in this house if they didn't. Maybe it was the first time she'd ever turned up in their house which would mean it'd be the first time they'd truly seen River Song since Demon's Run.

"I, well, I needed somewhere to eat and look this stuff over. Prison, isn't exactly ideal and I thought you'd be in bed, it is eleven at night." She gestured to her notes, trying to act as if nothing had happened to her parents since the last time she had seen them at Lake Silencio – that wretched place. The Doctor thought she wouldn't remember but she did, she remembered every second of being in that horrid suit – of shooting the man she loved.

Amy dumped the bags on the table, "Is this what you do? You use this home as a pit stop so you can read your notes? You wait for us to go to bed and act like a stranger or-or a burglar!"

"Amy . . ." Rory put a hand on her arm but betrayal laced through him as well. He wasn't sure his daughter would ever recuperate from her childhood and what if this was proof? What if he never got to truly know her? What if he didn't want to know her, what if she'd always be the psychopath? Rory felt sick and looked at River in concern, his mind darting to all the times she'd whipped out a gun with no remorse or thought. When she simply shot at things, and the way she sometimes didn't seem to care about _anything._

River turned at stuffed the papers in a bag by the table, hiding her hurt expression. She took a breath; she needed to pave the way for her past selves to be welcomed into this house. "I come here all the time. Sometimes during the day and sometimes at night but I swear, I usually come to see you." She looked at them pleadingly, "I just needed to get some work done so I came now, I thought this was a different time." River looked down, "I'm sorry."

Rory's eyes held forgiveness and love but Amy – Amy had been through too much lately. She'd lost her daughter four times; twice when Kovarian had taken her away, once when she'd been in the astronaut suit and died on the streets, and only a few months ago when her daughter shown who she was as a psychopath.

Amy stood, shaking, with her hands on the counter, "How do we know you're telling the truth?"

River looked at her mother, hurt shining in her eyes, "What –"

"You're a psychopath. Kovarian raised you, not me, not Rory. Kovarian." Amy glared at River, "You . . . you're not . . ." Tears sprang to her eyes and she turned away.

River bit the inside of her lip, her own mother thought her a psychopath – not a daughter, not _her _daughter. She moved sluggishly, tiredly towards the silhouette of her mother. The room would've been pitch black had the moon not been shining so brightly that night. River reached out with her left hand to tap her mother's shoulder.

"Amy?"

Amy pulled away from her touch as if it burned, "We need some light in here." She flipped the lights but stayed facing the other direction until –

"_River!_" Rory gasped at the sight of his daughter's right arm. It clearly broken, twisting the wrong way at the elbow. Lines of cuts ran up and down it, the fabric of the jean jacket she wore was torn.

Amy flipped around, the concern in his voice reaching her through her armor of hurt. Suddenly the fact River had been a psychopath was gone from her mind, as was all the bitterness that had accompanied it. Only motherly concern and protectiveness remained. She raced to her pale daughter's side.

River looked down at her arm in slight shock, as if she didn't remember it happening. "What . . ."

Rory ignored the question, dismissing its importance. He'd seen plenty of patients who couldn't remember getting hurt; it was a typical reaction to trauma. "Amy, sit her back down. I'll get the car running –"

"No! Dad, I can't go to the hospital, my biology's too different . . ." River's voice faded out at the look on his face. Rory had stopped moving and was looking at her with a mix of shock and excitement.

"You called me Dad." He smiled as a parent does when their child says their first words or calls them by their name for the first time. Rory hadn't felt like a father since he'd held flesh Melody in his arms and cried. It had been the happiest moment of his life (short of marrying Amy).

River rolled her eyes as she saw her father completely forget what she told him about her biology, "Dad!" His eyes snapped back to hers and she smiled, relishing the moment. These moments were so few and she relished every minute of them. Only yesterday he'd had no idea who she was, his only motivation was to save Amy from . . . from . . . River wracked her mind, trying to remember what it had been from . . .

"Oh, right! Sorry!" He knelt down on the tiled kitchen floor and examined his daughter's arm. What he found was not comforting. He'd need to set the bone and stitch up some places, he had some anesthetic that he carried around but it would be incredibly painful and slightly more risky to do at home. He remembered reading his daughter's charts at the hospital after Berlin though and she was right. She was different and the hospital would pick it up. UNIT might be notified, as well as some other organizations. Too many questions would be asked.

"Amy, can you take River into the sitting room while I go get the tools?" Rory patted River's shoulder lightly as he got up and rushed out of the room.

Amy pulled River back up as gently as she could but a small moan escaped and River swayed on her feet. It was a miracle she hadn't noticed the pain before. A strange, impossible miracle but Amy pushed the thought from her mind. River pulled loose of Amy, wanting to prove that she could stand and walk on her own. It was only her arm that was hurt and River was used to doing it alone. Amy walked behind her, ready to catch her if she fainted or even swayed slightly. Amy felt awful, she'd been so caught up in her loss, she hadn't even noticed her own daughter, whose loss she was mourning, was injured.

When they reached the sitting room, River lowered herself gently onto the large armchair, holding her arm gently to the side. She slipped the jacket off, flinching slightly as it rubbed her arm. Amy knelt by her side on the carpet, staring intently at the circular patterns before looking up;

"River, I'm sorry – for what I said in there, I didn't mean it . . ."

"You did though." River stared out the window, it wasn't Amy's fault. None of this was Amy's fault and coping with what had happened . . . that was hard even for the best of people, "It's fine though, really."

Amy opened her mouth to say more when Rory clattered through the door, dropping scissors and two pieces of smoothed wood to the ground. Amy rolled her eyes at River, forgetting for a moment that they were anything but two friends. Forgetting Demon's Run. River laughed and Rory looked at them sheepishly. It would be as it always had been; Amy and Mels would make fun of him in their own good natured way. He gave them a playful glare before gathering the materials and kneeling before his daughter.

"This is going to hurt." He looked worriedly at the arm and wished he was able to administer the proper amount of antibiotics and painkillers. Deftly, Rory cleaned her arm up as best he could before jabbing a needle into the area which he needed to stitch up. River didn't even flinch; she simply stared at the ceiling, her hand grasping the side of the chair.

Amy looked at the pair and felt useless, unable – unwilling even to truly help. She simply watched her husband stitch up their daughter by himself. It was River's attitude caused her stomach to clench, though. A normal person would have expressed an audible sound of pain; River was silent – enduring it without the slightest whimper. Amy's mind went into overdrive; imagining all the horrible things Kovarian must have done to River – Melody – as a child. The pain, the punishment, the mental abuse, the list went on and on until –

River cried out. Amy was there in a moment, holding her daughters hand and whispering words of encouragement. Rory had set the bone as best he could with little equipment but River slight scream had jolted him rather badly and he had backed off for a moment. But Amy was there, she was back from wherever her mind had taken her. He'd seen her, out of the corner of his eye and he'd known she was thinking about what Kovarian had done. He'd noticed River's lack of reaction to pain as well.

Rory finally finished with the arm and the three just sat there for a moment, in silence. The only noise was River's heavy breathing as she mastered the pain in her arm which only caused Amy to grip her daughter's hand much tighter. Amy bit her lip in worry; she didn't have any idea how to comfort her grown daughter. She'd never needed it and Amy had never learned how. But, as with all mothers, Amy simply fell into the role.

Time passed. River's breath evened out and fell into a pattern and, when Rory looked up she was asleep; head tilted into the side of the chair, a peaceful, relaxed expression lighting her features. She looked younger, he thought; it's always been the eyes that show her age. Rory nudged Amy who was staring at her daughter's hands. His red haired wife looked up, smiled, and reached up to push a lock of curly hair away from her face.

Rory stood up slowly and motioned to Amy and an agreement passed between them. Amy nodded and let go of River's hand, allowing Rory to gently pick up their daughter; avoiding the broken arm. She stirred for a moment before relaxing into his chest. Rory smiled, River may not be the exact daughter and family he had planned but he loved her none the less.

He carried her as smoothly as he could up the stairs to the guest bedroom. When they'd first moved in he and Amy had argued about what to do with the guest room. Did they convert it to a storage room or keep it just in case family stopped by? They'd been at an impasse until now but it was clear; a guest bedroom it would be. Well, not so much a guest room, but a room for their daughter – and maybe the Doctor, if he ever needed to stay the night. Ideas floated through their minds on how to decorate it. They'd never gotten to put a room together for their baby daughter but they had the chance now.

Rory gently set River on the bed and tucked the blankets around her. Amy stood anxiously by, as if something would go wrong. Rory straightened and smiled at Amy, as though they shared a wonderful secret. She shook her head playfully and placed a kiss on River's forehead like she used to when Melody was a baby.

Rory walked out the door but Amy didn't leave. When he came back in he spotted the worried expression on her face. He took it in both his hands and looked into her eyes, mouthing _she'll be fine_.

Amy nodded, a part of her was thrilled, the other part – terrified something was about to go horribly wrong. But as they walked out of the door and turned to look at their sleeping daughter, the two parents smiled in pride. They were a family, in their own special way.

**Ok, so, like? Hate? Do you want to review? That'd be lovely! So there is a bit of a plot here. I don't know if you realized it but it's there! Not telling you what it is though cause that'd be spoilers! **


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